


Your People Will Be My People

by azryal



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azryal/pseuds/azryal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Floki wore the wolf’s skin when Ragnar had them show Athelstan what Ragnarok was. The end results are surprising. </p><p>A companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/791302">Sin Against Your Servant</a>, where Ragnar notices the developing relationship and loses himself to his darker side. For a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your People Will Be My People

**Author's Note:**

> I had thought first that Floki bit the monk. I discovered later it was Rollo, which was then confirmed by Clive Standen on Twitter.
> 
> But I love this little story and it stays.

“No, don’t sit there, in the piss.”

Floki led the boy away from the corner of the house. Still coughing, lungs fighting the smoke like bellows on a forge, Athelstan did not reply. His grip on Floki’s arm was tight enough to bruise and he still stumbled until he was leaned against a barrel. Then he let go of Floki and clung to it.

What he’d found amusing in the jest, Floki couldn’t say now. Perhaps he’d gone too far. The thought made him laugh, for he was himself, always, a bit too far. If ever a lesson needed teaching it was Floki who gladly who imparted the wisdom. He’d donned the wolf skin and stalked the boy, relishing the role.

Watching Athelstan shake and choke, wipe at his eyes and nose while sniffling, made him feel guilty. “Only a little,” he mumbled to himself.

“What?”

Athelstan was looking at him through red, bleary eyes. Angry eyes.

“It was only a little smoke, priest. Surely you can…”

“You’ve had your fun now. You can go.” Athelstan’s voice was rough.

Floki kicked at the dirt. “It was play, a bit of sport.”

“Yes, yes, at my expense again. Though a simple explanation would have sufficed,” Athelstan snapped. He rubbed his face with his cloak, clearing it of tears and mucus. “Thank you for getting me out of there. You can go back to your…entertainment.”

“You take things so seriously. If you would but laugh and find the humor…”

“So it’s my fault? Oh, of course, what with my  _ignorant Christian_  mind, I could not see. Again. Thank you for reminding me.”

Athelstan turned away from him to rest on the barrel. He touched his throat and winced.

In the moon’s glow, Floki could see the vivid red mark. It was in the shape of his own mouth.

“I didn’t mean to,” he told the other, softly.

Athelstan gave him a furious glance.

“Bite so hard,” Floki continued.

Grabbing his head, Athelstan sat down with a grunt. “What was it? I can’t see for the world spinning.”

“Dvale. Just a plant, with pretty purple flowers. When it burns it shows you the thin places, where our realm overlaps the others,” Floki said, kneeling beside him. He didn’t tell of its other uses.

“It’s making me feel sick.” Athelstan hunched over his crossed legs.

Floki put a gentle hand on his back and began to rub. “Stop being angry, then. You fight it too hard.”

The boy moved quickly, jerking upright and shoving Floki so hard he fell flat on his back. “Everything with you people is a fight,” he snarled.

Stunned, but only for a moment, Floki stayed sprawled. He propped himself on his elbows. “Not everything,” he said, blithely. “We choose our battles and celebrate their glory, but we know when not to fight.”

“You fight at meals, at funerals. You fight when the sun rises and when it sets, in your homes and in your beds. I see no time you chose not to.” Athelstan was speaking to his legs again, supporting his head with his hands.

“If you think what we do in bed is fighting, you haven’t been bedded,” Floki laughed.

“Stop it!” This time Athelstan moved over him. He took a fistful of Floki’s robe and put their faces close together. “Stop laughing at me! I’m sick of it!”

Now Floki was truly shocked.

When the color left Athelstan’s face an instant later, he knew the boy was, too.

“Oh,” he said, unsteady. “Oh, God.” He let go of Floki and pushed back into the wall.

“Priest?”

“Don’t tell him, please. I’m sorry. I...” Athelstan looked at him with eyes full of fear. “I’m sorry.”

Floki realized what he meant. He sat up. “Ragnar would not beat you. Not for this. Surely you know that by now.”

With a tiny shake of his head, Athelstan said, “I don’t know anything, at all. I never know what he wants from me.”

“He scares you, still?”

“Why did he do this? What point does he make, other than to scare me?” Athelstan asked. He pulled his knees to his chest and let his head rest upon them. “He seeks to put me in my place, to stop my questions. Because a slave should not have so many.”

“And a slave that strikes a free man is beaten,” Floki finished. He sighed, scooted across the dirt to sit closer, and put a hand on Athelstan’s head. “Don’t fear. I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you,” Athelstan whispered, not looking at him.

Floki rubbed at his hair, longer on top now but still short enough to crisp beneath his fingers. It was a lovely feeling, probably heightened by the smoke, and he kept on until he saw the tension leave Athelstan’s shoulders.

“Let me see your neck,” he said, pushing a little.

Athelstan raised his head and let it fall back to hit the wall with a thud. His eyes were half-closed, their black centers spread so wide there was no blue left. “I feel strange,” he muttered.

“It will pass. The smoke does not last so long,” Floki soothed as he tipped Athelstan’s head to the side.

The mark was fading, thank the gods. He rubbed his thumb over it and felt no swelling.

“Why did you bite me?”

Floki gave him an incredulous look. “Would a wolf not taste the tender calf? You think me a stronger man than I am.”

His thumb pressed a bit harder and Athelstan flinched away from it.

“It still pains you?” Surprised to hear his own voice gone so soft, Floki cleared his throat. “It couldn’t have been that hard. You fell down before I could really set to.”

“No, it…” Athelstan whispered. “It’s your  _hand_.”

“My hand?” Floki spread it over the bite, his long fingers creeping spider-like beneath his tunic. He squeezed, not hard, just enough to feel the curve of his shoulder.

Athelstan gasped.

His thumb moved over Athelstan’s collar bone, tracing to its end and sliding up his throat. He guided Athelstan’s chin so that they were nose to nose. Athelstan stared at him with lips slightly parted. “I like your face,” he breathed.

The statement was so absurd and yet so sweet, and Floki was torn between amusement and arousal and all he could do was snicker. He shook his head. “It is the only face I was given, so that is good.”

It was the curl of Athelstan’s smile, stretching up one side to round his cheek, which did Floki in.

“You wear many faces,” Athelstan whispered. “I’ve seen you warrior, healer, sage, jester…brother and friend and father. I even saw you lover once.”

At this he blushed. Floki’s brows shot up in surprise.

“You woke me. Or, rather, Helga woke me. I thought a bird loose inside.”

 “She can be a bit…” Floki laughed. He paused to find the right word.

“Squeaky,” Athelstan supplied.

Floki snorted, then laughed more fully. “Yes, squeaky.”

Athelstan fell silent, still staring. He lowered his head as his brow furrowed.

“What is it, Athelstan?”

“My head, my thoughts…they go places I don’t understand.”

“The dvale doesn't make the thin places appear, it makes our minds more able to see them,” Floki said, his thumb stroking over the stubble of Athelstan’s chin. “It drops our own veils, opens  _verdfolnir_ , here” he poked the place above the bridge of Athelstan’s nose “and shows us mysteries and wonders both.”

Still frowning, Athelstan chewed his lip. “It drops our veils. Does it show us what is inside of us?”

“Yes, if that is the mystery you wish to solve.”

“It would show me what questions to ask, if I should want to know more?”

“It could,” Floki answered, smiling. “What does it say?”

Athelstan’s eyes flew up and they were huge and dark, and questioning. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you laugh at me?”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Floki kept a decidedly grave face. “Not the first time.”

“You would make me ask twice?” This was innocently asked with a tilt of Athelstan’s head.

Floki would have laughed, then, certainly, but for the warm weight of lips on his. They were closed, chaste, and they made him shiver. When Athelstan pulled back, he looked a breath away from panicking. Floki curled his fingers around Athelstan’s neck and tugged him forward.

It took a moment to coax his mouth open, using naught but pressure and sweeps of his tongue. When it happened and Floki licked inside, the surprise was not the sweet rush of heat which flushed through him, or the quiet moan that worked free when their tongues brushed. It was the trusting, easy way Athelstan followed. The way the other melted into him when Floki wrapped him up and lifted him to rest on his knees. The slide of arms around his shoulders, believing they were strong enough to hold him.

When Floki’s hand moved to his belt, Athelstan twitched, pulled his mouth away and looked down.

“All right?” Floki asked, lips moving against Athelstan’s forehead.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in the answer, but the tension was back in his shoulders.

“I won’t hurt you.” Floki found the strap holding closed and tugged, deftly opening it and letting it fall away. He’d been there when Ragnar had grabbed Athelstan, dressed him in the calfskin over-tunic and placed the wide belt on his hips. Floki had sniped, saying that he looked like a boy in his father’s armor, but Ragnar had just smiled.

“I know,” Athelstan said, his eyes brimming with heat and want and thanks. 

Floki realized at that moment that keeping Athelstan a child was exactly what Ragnar had intended.

That made him burn, just a bit, for though Athelstan was young he was hardly a child. When the over-tunic fell open and Floki’s palm smoothed up beneath the worn flaxen smock, the firmness of muscle dusted lightly with fine hair confirmed it. He amended his own mind, for he’d called Athelstan ‘boy’ or ‘child’ often enough, but no more. The kiss they shared next was more than cause enough.

Athelstan was panting, responding to the exploration with shuddering, breathy moans. He pressed into Floki’s hand, tipped his head to one side for lips to move down his neck. Floki didn’t bite, not this time, but he did scrape his teeth over the place. Athelstan’s hips lurched forward, nearly knocking them both over. “Again,” he breathed. “Please, do it again.”

Floki snarled against his skin and bit, just has he had during the ritual. Athelstan stifled a groan against Floki’s shoulder. Athelstan rocked his lower body, pushing into Floki’s stomach, desperately seeking contact. Floki untied his lacings, pulled them loose, and shoved his hand in to wrap around Athelstan’s cock.

He felt Athelstan arch, felt the grip on his shoulders tighten, and heard a whimper.

“Am I the first?” Floki asked, his mouth hovering over the indents his teeth left.

Athelstan nodded and thrust against Floki’s palm.

Floki swore. “You fool, you should be laid out on fur and fine wool, letting me see you. Letting me touch you all over,” he whispered, his lips moving to Athelstan’s ear.

“Don’t.” Athelstan raised his head. Their eyes met and he saw sadness in Athelstan’s. “We can’t. This is all for now.”

“Ragn-“

Athelstan cut him off with a kiss. “ _Don’_ t say his name,” he said into Floki’s mouth.

Grinding his teeth, Floki squeezed the flesh in his hand. He pulled and twisted, just shy of too hard. Athelstan made a startled sound, high and trembling and wild, like an eagle’s call from the trees. His head fell back with a groan, mouth dropping open. He looked wanton, hungry, and with another curse Floki flung Ragnar’s name up to the gods, wiping his hands of all care.

He put his lips back to Athelstan’s ear. “I’ll have you,” he murmured, working his hand, fast and hard. “I’ll have you one day, and I will see all of you, touch you from your hair to your toes. I will taste every dark, secret place on your body and I will see your face above me, below me, and beside me. I will watch you come for me while I fuck all the questions out of your head.”

Athelstan’s hips snapped, his arms tightened, and his eagle’s cry rose again. Hot, wet streaks landed on Floki’s chest, smeared between them as Athelstan swayed with the sensations still wrung by Floki’s fingers. Though he had gentled his touch, it soon became too much and Athelstan grabbed his wrist, giving one last shudder as he sought and found Floki’s mouth.

Floki took his hand away and tore at his own trousers. They were always loose on his slim frame so it was easy to reach inside of them, take his own cock and use the seed still on his fingers to slick his frantic motions. When another hand worked its way in, palm open and rubbing across the slit, Floki’s teeth found Athelstan’s jaw.

“One day,” Athelstan whispered, his fingers covering Floki’s to share in the work, “One day, I will let you have me, Floki. And I will have you, as well. I promise.”

With a grunt and one long moan Floki came, his open mouth pressed to Athelstan’s neck. He rested his forehead there for a while, waiting until they both breathed as usual and the blood stopped singing in his veins. Even when it did, he could still hear the thrum, the soft chant of ‘more’, for he was far from finished with this man.

“Another kiss, Floki?” Athelstan whispered. Floki gladly gave it.

They cleaned and dressed without speaking, but the confusion and swiftly changing moods that had beset Athelstan seemed to have gone. He was steady on his feet, easy to smile, and only rolled his eyes, when Floki tilted his head to see new marks on his skin.

“You wore the wolf and bit me. If he doesn't like it, I’ll tell him to come see you.”

Floki grinned. “You do that, and I’ll tell him about your own bird calls.”

Athelstan gave him a playful shove.

“They weren't so squeaky, though they were piercing.”

“Shut up!” Athelstan cried and pushed him again.

They laughed together. Floki found himself unable to look away from Athelstan’s face. “We should move over there, in case he comes to find you.”

A pall fell over them for a moment in the face of that possibility. They moved closer to the door, leaned against the wooden frame facing each other. And then the smiles returned, without any cause other than their nearness.

“I have no birds in my nest at the moment,” Floki said, softly. “Helga went with Torstein.”

At Athelstan’s stunned, sad look, he waved one hand. “I blessed them both and sent them on their way. She was a fine bedmate, despite her squeaks, and she kept me from talking to the trees, but I have no regret, for I did not love her.”

He gazed at Athelstan, eyes narrowing for a moment before he smiled.

His gaze shining blue like a frozen pond, Athelstan blinked and slowly returned the smile. Then his smile turned into a grin, threatening laughter. “I suppose Torstein’s maggot wasn’t so little. Or maybe he wriggled it in a more pleasing manner?”

Floki stared and put his hands on his hips. He tried to look menacing, but his lips twitched.

“Birds,” he said, still fighting his smile.

Athelstan leaned closer. “Maggots,” he whispered.

And they both laughed. They laughed until they had to sit. They laughed together the rest of the night.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> dvale - used for centuries - ages - as a trance inducer, medical treatment, and practical joke enhancer....long before it got the name belladonna.
> 
> verdfolnir - The Eagle's Eye, a Third Eye sort of concept found in several of the sagas.


End file.
